The Edinburgh Festivals are quite a different experience now that I'm not living in the middle of Edinburgh. It used to be a short bus ride or walk home after an evening show. But these days if we miss the last train, it's an epic journey on the 1AM bus. It's an eclectic mix of screeching hens, football revellers and middle-aged Girls Night Out-ers, with the odd posh couple hiding beneath the wife's pashmina as they wonder whose idea it was to leave the car at home. The air is thick with beer breath and nobody seems to know each other, but drunkeness unites. It's all belching, farts and bellowed banter. LADY 1: Can you stop the bus please, driver! This lady is gonnae be sick! LADY 2: Dinnae worry, hen! I'll be sick in ma handbag. LADY 1: Dinnae worry, driver! She's gonnae be sick in her handbag! LADY 2: [BLUUURRK] LADY 1: Lucky you had that handbag because I wouldnae be cleaning up your sick. I'll clean up piss, but I hate cleaning up sick. BLOKE: Oh that's good coz I'm totally burstin'. When we finally got off the bus we had to jump right over the stairs and onto the footpath, because some lady had spewed all over them.